Fallout: Lone Wanderer
by DeathBladeVI
Summary: From the Republic of Dave to Rivet City, the Lone Wanderer is a hero and a messiah. But they know little of the man that had transformed the wasteland. Follow as we tell the tale of the Lone Wanderer's journey as a babe in the hallways of Vault 101, to breaking the power of the most dangerous threat known to man. All of this starts because of a dream his father had...
1. Prologue

**HELLO! IT is I, with a new story. Yes, I am in a Fallout freak. This is a reboot. If you read my stuff about a year ago, it sucked very badly. Now, it is time to reboot, Fallout: The Lone Wanderer. Not a creative title, but the content will be better. This is my most ambitious project to date. Longer chapters, shoot, this chapter might be longer than some stories I have written. At least five thousand words per chapter. Have a nice time reading!**

Prologue

_War. War never changes. _

_Since the dawn of human kind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything: from God to justice to simple, psychotic rage. _

_The world was a chaotic place. Humanity is the violent child of God, the product of sin and vice. The product of knowledge and humanity's curse and ability to adapt to any kind of situation. _

_War between different ideologies plagued the world before the destructive nature of man destroyed itself. Communism and democracy, two ideologies and ideas that would tear the world apart. _

_In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation. _

_But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter of human history. For man had succeeded in destroying the world - but war, war never changes. _

_In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters, known as vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them - all except those in Vault 101. For on that fateful day, when fire rained from the sky, the giant steel door of Vault 101 slid closed... and never reopened. It was here you were born. It is here you will die. _

_Because, in Vault 101: no one ever enters, and no one ever leaves._

* * *

"_I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will unto him that is the thirst of the fountain of the waters of life, freely."_

_-Revelations 21:6_

Darkness. That was all the land was. The Capital Wasteland was enjoying yet another day of death and despair. Rolling black clouds started to appear from the east, coming from the black sea. The sound of gunfire and death was a common companion to the many people that inhabited the nation's former capital.

It was early in the morning, around six-thirty, when the sun started to show. Bright rays of orange broke through the canopy of clouds, basking the land in its warmth.

The road to the Jefferson Memorial was not an easy one. In Pre-War times, one would simply just take the metro to near the old aircraft carrier and walk from there, while others would simply step outside their apartments and houses to take a short walk to it. The Tidal Basin would be clear with water that was clean and pure. People would be going to the beach near the carrier and enjoying a quiet day.

But that was an old dream. An old world that was buried within the deep recesses of humanity's mistakes. Today, in the year 2277, in the month of October, on the day of the twenty-fifth, cries were heard, as war tore apart this formerly quiet area.

Now, instead of curious visitors in the rotunda, were squads of men in jet black power armor, wearing helmets that curved black horns and demonic yellow eyes. Instead of the openness that was custom to the Memorial, a giant force field, colored blue as the sky above, blocked anyone that wasn't wearing the armor of the squads, or were approved by them, from entering.

A robot, standing over forty feet tall, colored grey as the mountains that were in the north, with arms that had massive cannons attached to it. A red star was painted on the grey paintjob, the words UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, painted below in black lettering. Car sized mini-nukes were strapped to its back, and it seemed it had a power pack on its back, powering the great monster that was currently advancing towards the Memorial and the giant force field that encircled it.

"RED COMMUNISTS HAVE ENGAGED AMERICAN FORCES. THREAT ASSESSMENT. SEVENTY-THREE POWER ARMORED TROOPS. POSSIBILITY OF HINDRANCE?" It asked in a robotic voice that was coated with patriotism.

"ZERO PERCENT!" It yelled with great ferocity before crossing a bridge that connected the Jefferson Memorial to the Washington D.C mainland.

"Attack pattern Alpha-Omega Three!" yelled a men dressed in the jet black power armor, firing a strange weapon that let out a laser that streaked towards the robot at several times the speed of sound. The laser just added another scorch mark to the armor of the robot, who responded by firing a stream of energy that was colored blue. The energy shot impacted on the man, melting his armor and killing him instantly, by cooking himself alive in the power armor.

Behind the robot were several people in steel grey power armor. Wearing armor of the Old World America and painted with the insignia of a cog, two wings on the side of it and a golden sword in the middle.

The symbol of hope and safety in the Wasteland. It was the flag of the Capital chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, the major power in the region, and now fighting to take back control of the Jefferson Memorial.

Leading them was a woman, a woman that had pale configuration, blonde hair that was as golden as the sun, tied in a ponytail, and was firing her own weapon, a laser rifle that was the same as the man that had been boiled alive. Behind her were her personal squad.

Lyon's Pride. They were the best shock troopers in the Wasteland, with access to many weapons and armor that the ordinary Paladin or Knight didn't. Wearing T-51b Power Armor, the greatest power armor that the Old World American Government had ever created, they were the symbol of the Capital Wasteland.

But in front of them was a kid. A wanderer of a sorts. In his hands was an assault rifle, the same ones that the Americans used during their war with China. Strapped to his back was a sniper rifle, it mint condition, while a sawed off shotgun was strapped to his side and a .44 revolver with a scope was in his holster. Wearing armor that ordinary soldiers of the United States used to wear before the Great War, it was colored winter grey, with a face mask pulled over his nose and mouth. He was like a post-apocalyptic hero, a soldier from days gone past.

Two opposing ideologies. One that the Wasteland was a mutated hellhole that needed to be purified. That anyone that wasn't them was to die for their mutations that they didn't have control of. The idea of an old government that would be made renew in the Capital. Born from the ashes of the murders of thousands, this New Republic would do the same to countless others, until only pure humans were the only inhabitants left on the mainland.

The other was that the people of the Wasteland deserved a chance. To live. To have their lives lived out as they see fit. As traders, as people, not as sheep lead to a slaughter. The fundamental idea that the people could be saved. That restoring peace and prosperity to a land disfigured by war and death, can be once more, free and prosperous.

"PRIDE! Form up on the Wanderer! Dusk, give me a corridor! Take care of those flanks!" the blonde woman yelled. Red ruby lasers were firing, narrow beams that just scorched the metal of the armor of the robot, while green balls of plasma were traveling much slower than the laser beams of light, doing the same amount of damage to the armor like the lasers.

"On it Sentinel. Just give me a moment..." a woman said back, before falling back to a large rock outcrop that was located just outside of the bridge. A sniper rifle, chambered to fire .308, was in her hands as she climbed the outcrop with ease.

Dusk was the sniper of Lyon's Pride and one of the best, if not the best, in the whole Brotherhood. Two black power armored soldiers were trying to flank the advancing Pride, firing their weapons, laser beams erupting from their rifles, as they took cover in the black rocks.

"Huh, smart bastards. Well, let me just make sure they pay for their smartness..." and she pulled the trigger of her rifle, letting the recoil being taken care by the power armor's advanced strength. One of the black armored soldiers was concentrated on firing, while another paused to reload. She smiled before placing her sights on the reloading one, letting her rifle bark with excitement.

The demonic eyes did little to protect from the .308 armor piercing round from doing its job. The round punched right through the helmet, forcing its way into the brain and out the other side, the shot taking advantage of the thinner armor that inhabited that particular area. Blood, brain matter, and fluids leaked out the pierced helmet, while circuits fried because of the shot.

"One smug Enclave bastard down," Dusk muttered to herself, before placing her sights on the other one. But before she could pull her trigger, two shots rang out, and the Enclave sergeant fell down, his hands going to his head, as if he was trying to claw the bullets out from his throat, raw screams that were more like gurgles. Another shot rang out, and the Enclave soldier was finally silenced, a bullet to the head.

"Smug Vault bastard," she cursed to herself.

The robot had advanced, the ground shuttering and shaking as the massive weight of the robot brought fear to the hearts of the Enclave soldiers that were holding the area. But soon, one looked up, pausing from firing his weapon, letting it cool for just the instant.

It was a _Whump-whump-whump _sound of a rotor, coming from the north, passing the broken bow of the old aircraft carrier. Colored as black as the night and heralding the insignia of thirteen stars in a circle around a broad E. The insignia of hope for the Enclave soldiers that were being decimated by the Lyon's Pride and the giant robot. Two rotors that start to turn, rotating up, letting the vehicle hover above the death-stricken soldiers. A VB-02 Vertibird, the transportation miracle of the Enclave. It was practically the only mode of air transportation in the Capital Wasteland, if one does not count being launched in the air by a super mutant.

"Yeah, give Liberty Prime hell!" the soldier yelled to the black aircraft that was currently hovering above the Memorial. As if to answer him, a swathe of lasers erupted from the aircraft, peppering the giant robot with fire. Streaks of missiles exited from the pods on the aircraft's wings, traveling towards its target with deadly efficiency. This would have been enough to take large groups of Talon Company mercenaries, Super Mutants, and even a small town.

But when the smoke cleared from the missiles exhaust and impacted on the robot, the soldiers, expecting scrap metal and a broken enemy, saw the massive robot come out unscathed, only a few more scorch marks evident, of where the missiles and lasers had impacted.

"COMMUNIST AIRCRAFT DETECTED! ACTIVATING ANTI-AIR PROTCOL NINER-NINER-ZERO!" the robot shrilled and the laser from its eye that had engulfed the first soldier that dared fire on him, was redirected to the Vertibird.

"Oh shi-" came the last words of the pilot before the aircraft was engulfed in blue lasers, taking out the fuel cells and overloading the nuclear reactor that served as the aircraft's source of power. As the aircraft exploded, black scorched parts from the aircraft started to rain down on the Enclave positions, as if God was punishing them with fire once more.

The robot, which was christened Liberty Prime, soon crossed the remainder of the bridge, just in front of the force field section that was blocking Lyon's Pride from entering. Liberty Prime paused for just a moment, as if scanning the object that was preventing the liberation of the facility.

"OBSTRUCTION DETECTED, COMPOSITION: TITANIUM ALLOWY SUPPLEMENTED BY PHOTONIC RESONANCE BARRIER. PROBABILTY OF HINDRANCE? ZERO PERCENT!" Liberty Prime bellowed, before forcing his gigantic hands into the force field, letting the sizzling electricity course through his robotic body. He went to one knee, as if he was praying, before his mechanical legs drove themselves up, and his lasers went to work, destroying groups of Enclave soldiers easily.

The Enclave, who had started out this phase of the Battle for the Memorial with over seventy men, had been reduced to about forty. With the sniper support from Dusk decimating any Enclave soldier that tried to flank the advancing robot and the Pride, the Brotherhood of Steel Paladins and Knights were already across the bridge, in cover behind an old series of sandbags that was arrayed to stand an assault from the sea, if it was attacked that way. Sentinel Sarah Lyons had them formed in a semi-circle with her in the middle in order to have their attention.

"Alright Pride, Liberty Prime should be able to mop up the rest of the Enclave soldiers easily," she paused; as if to prove her point, a jet black power armored leg landed right next to her, still smoking from the laser blast that had bisected its owner.

"The Wanderer and I will enter the building from the Gift Shop," she said, poking her head and pointing to the Memorial. You have to secure the surrounding area. Gallows should be on the roof by now," and the Pride looked to the roof of the Memorial, to see another Enclave soldier fall to his death. The cries escaping from the throat from the soldier seemed to be from a movie. Soon, a Brotherhood of Steel soldier appeared on the roof, his laser rifle blasting, beams of light being emitted.

"There is Gallows. Alright Pride, you know what you have to do. Make sure any Vertibirds you find, keep them intact. We got some initiates back at the Citadel that would benefit from some real life experience. Pride, Move OUT!" she ordered and the well oiled machine that was Lyon's Pride leapt from cover, firing their rifles, beams of lasers coming from the ones with laser rifles; a mini-gun was whining up, 5mm armor piercing bullets chewing up the ground and Enclave soldiers, some of them bouncing off the black jet armor. A missile streaked over, engulfing an Enclave soldier in an explosion of dirt and death. Smoke was everywhere, death was the constant companion of the men fighting for their beliefs.

The man in the winterized combat armor was slowing, his rifle being fired in bursts of three. One burst would target the head, another would target the chest, and the last would find itself hitting the helmet once more. One Enclave soldier burst from a fortification, a smaller version of a chainsaw in his right hand, revving up to kill him. In two bounds, the soldier had reached the Wanderer.

The Enclave soldier's ripper sliced through the cold morning air, sparks flying from the ripper as the teeth started to rev once more. The Wanderer rolled out of the attack, before unsheathing his shotgun, firing the double triggers, an explosion of buckshot forcing the soldier back. Popping two new shells into the shotgun, he fire once more, punching through thinner neck armor of the jet black power armor.

The soldier dropped the ripper to the ground, the smell of electricity and oil coming from it, as he clutched his neck, as he fell to his knees. Blood started to flow from his neck, little rivers of red running down his pristine armor.

"Yoooouuu...willlll...never win," the soldier coughed, his voice a whisper as he tried in vain to stop the bleeding. The Wanderer just reloaded quickly before placing the muzzle of the shotgun against the helmet, and fired. The soldier slumped, his life force gone and his being passed into the void.

"Lets go!" Lyons screamed, before pumping another soldier full of lasers, the red beams slicing through a weak point in the joints between the arm and the shoulder. The soldier screamed before he was silenced by a another beam of laser, killing him instantly.

The Wanderer nodded silently, before using his augmented strength to kick the door in, his assault rifle blazing fire. The hall that was connected to the rotunda was quiet and eerie. The air was musty as the assault rifle clicked empty. The Wanderer paused before grabbing another magazine and ejected the empty magazine, and slammed another one home. He grabbed the empty one from off the ground and put it into a pouch on his armor, intending on filling it with 5.56 rounds when he got back home.

Whatever home was.

He pulled back the charging bolt before sweeping the hallway, before he gave a thumbs-up.

"Wanderer, I'll take point. You provide some covering fire when I enter the room," pointing to the intersecting part of the hallway that lead into another section of the Jefferson Memorial. He nodded his affirmation, before taking cover behind the wall. He then peeked around, only to receive a powerful kick to the head.

The Wanderer reeled back and before Lyons could do anything, plasma and laser fire erupted from the room that lead to the rotunda, pinning her down. She quickly took cover behind some rubble, firing her laser rifle back, beams striking the double doors that lead to the room and scything through the air, hoping to catch at least one of the Enclave bastards.

The Wanderer tried to get up, but he was soon slammed into the ground by another swift kick to his chest. He had the air knocked out of his lungs. Standing in front of him was an officer, wearing a grey suit and a grey hat that had the insignia of the Enclave on it.

"You are an impure specimen, not cut out to live with us. You will die, just like your father did, by Colonel Autumn's hand. But, no I will kill you now, and let all of the Wasteland know, that Captain Williams sent you to your doom," the officer said, before coughing. His skin was a lot paler than the white skin of Lyons, due to him being underground most of his life.

"Any last words?" the officer asked, pointing a plasma pistol at him. The green energy in the gun seemed to laugh at the Wanderer.

"Dogmeat."

The officer looked at him confused. His eyes darted to the side, but as he did, a powerful set of jaws clamped around his throat, tearing into it. The officer did not live to see his mistake and as his life force leaked out of his throat, a blue and green eye appeared, a panting noise, and licking.

"Good boy Dogmeat. Now stay. I have to do this by myself," the Wanderer cooed to the dog, who whined, voicing his displeasure at his master and friend going into battle against a superior force.

"Let me accompany you my friend. Let us do battle against the evils that is the Wasteland!" a guttural voice said in the darkness beside Dogmeat. The German Shepard and his master looked up, to see a massive figure, standing almost ten feet tall, with yellow-greenish skin. The figure's muscles were bulging, much bigger than a human's. The head was hairless, red veins evident everywhere on the body. His body was covered by a torn vault suit, tattered and stained with blood.

This figure was one of the infamous super mutants. But instead of the bloodlust and the cries of "DIE HUMAN", this super mutant was one of the smartest and one of the more deadlier ones. For this super mutant was Fawkes, the philosopher of the super mutant race on the East Coast.

"Let us go then. To arms Fawkes. _Fix Bayonets," _he said to Fawkes and the massive super mutant nodded in agreement. The super mutant had a large battery pack, that was attached to a large cannon that fired rapid lasers out if it. In his hands was a Gatling Laser, a weapon that Fawkes used to combat evil.

"Let us little brother. Death to the murderers!" the Super Mutant bellowed. As he did so, Sarah Lyons was still under fire, though it was slackening as her laser fire was accurate and deadly, opposed to the fire that was just passing over her. She lifted her rifle above her head and fired a trio of beams, striking the armored breastplate of another Enclave soldier, making fall to the ground as he clutched his scorched armor.

"Little Brother! I will lead the way!" Fawkes cried out, before entering the room. Instead of two humans dressed in power armor and combat armor, the Enclave saw a massive super mutant enter the room, lasers scything the air and scorching the ground. The sandbags served their purpose, shielding them from the majority of the fire that was being emitted from the Gatling Laser, though one was bisected in half by the volleys of lasers that were erupting from the massive laser machinegun.

"You are going to pay dearly for what you did to me!" Fawkes shouted, sending shivers of fear down the Enclave soldiers backs. One of them popped from behind cover, only to met with a hail of automatic fire and he slumped dead, his helmet pumped full of lead.

"I must use violence to erase evil! I must have a calm heart!" Fawkes shouted again, spewing off lines from poetry as he cut down another Enclave soldier in half. The Wanderer advanced behind him, firing bursts of 5.56 into the room, catching some of the Enclave unaware, though the group of seven soldiers that remained were waiting for the inevitable reload.

Fawkes continue to pour fire, but soon, the Gatling Laser clicked empty. He cursed silently, before back pedaling, reloading as he went. His stomps were powerful and the seven remaining soldiers ran forward, vaulting over their sandbags as they tried to rush the retreating super mutant.

Only to run right through a minefield of plasma.

The plasma mines detonated, faint beeps the only indication that they were there, waiting for the Enclave to rush forward. The mushroom cloud of plasma boiled the men alive in their armor, the fiery cloud sweeping over the seven that tried to cut down the super mutant. They died a horrendous death, and the sickly smell of burnt flesh and armor was present throughout the room.

"Lets go Wanderer, into the Rotunda!" Lyons yelled as she pointed to a door on the side. It was the door that lead to the Rotunda, the middle of the Jefferson Memorial and the whole reason why the Brotherhood of Steel had attacked the Memorial in the first place.

Project Purity. The project that promised clean and purified water to the people of the Wasteland, allowing for the region to prosper. Population, no more have having to worry about clean water, and in a span of a few months or years, food, which would allow for a population boom to happen. This is what the Enclave and the Brotherhood of Steel were fighting for. A chance for a new future in the ashes and remains of the Capital.

"Busting through the door to stop a madman from destroying everything my father worked on to save this Wasteland? This is what I signed up for," the Wanderer muttered. The voice was cold and it had no mercy in it. His eyes locked onto the Rotunda door, wanting to bust through it and destroy the man that had killed his father.

He would show no mercy for the man that had ruined his life. That had destroyed the last bastion of humanity left in his soul. He would kill him the same way his father had died. In the control room of Project Purity.

He kicked the door in, his assault rifle pointed towards the center of the room.

The Rotunda was a massive room, with a statue of Thomas Jefferson in the middle, surrounded by a glass installation that housed equipment that was necessary for the running of the project. Two ramps lead to the control room, and posters of Enclave propaganda dotted the walls. Pictures of Enclave soldiers with small children, a man in a suit looking off towards the future.

It was sickening. And standing in the middle was the man that had killed his father. The man that had destroyed his entire life. Dressed in a tan trench coat that had the insignia of the Enclave, his greying hair cut short in a buzz cut, and holding a laser pistol in his right hand, was Colonel Augustus Autumn.

The commander of the Enclave forces in the Washington D.C area.

"You again!" the Colonel said with venom. Standing besides him were two of his personal guard, wearing the same sleek jet black power armor all Enclave soldiers wore. One of them had a mini-gun, the other a plasma rifle.

"Yes me again," the Wanderer shot back, with equal hate and venom in his voice.

"I can't say I'm surprised. You and your ilk seemed hell bent on destroying everything our government had worked for," Autumn said easily.

"There is nothing stopping me to kill now. Let's end this."

The Wanderer looked at the Colonel. He resisted urge to raise his rifle and blow the man away, but his father's teachings came into practice. Peace before trying to kill someone.

"We don't have to fight," the Wanderer said through gritted teeth. He had to offer the Colonel chance to surrender, otherwise he would be forced to enjoy killing the man.

"You don't have to. Just stand there and it will be all the less painful for you," the Colonel said with a venomous smile. His two guards chuckled at the little "joke".

"The Enclave is finished. We just carved through seventy of your fellow soldiers, not to mention the ten that were just blown to bits outside. You think your Enclave can stand the might of the Brotherhood of Steel?" Sarah Lyons cut in. The Wanderer smiled as the Colonel faltered a little, before he regained his composure.

"I beg to differ. The Enclave is at the height of its power. Once this facility is operational, the masses will flock to the Enclave for water, protection, and a plan for the future," the Colonel retorted.

"What masses? With your madman of a president that is willing to kill everyone in the Wasteland that is just a little mutated, just for the pure? How many will die? Thousands Colonel? Are the blood of thousands of innocents really worth to follow Eden's orders?" asked Sarah Lyons.

"Raven Rock will never fall and the President is right in most of his judgments. I will not allow you to try and stop him," the Colonel retorted.

"Raven Rock _did fall._ If you paused to look out the window of your Vertibird before you left the area, you would know that Raven Rock, at least the upper levels of the base, have been _leveled. _Dozens of your men are dead and your precious machine of a president destroyed," the Wanderer shot back harshly. His voice was like a bullet, cutting into Colonel Autumn.

"The American people are worth fighting for. The future of the Wasteland must be secured. I will not let you stand in the way of that."

"You'll die before you realize your dream is just that. A dream. A dream that old men before the war cooked up, in order to continue the old order that brought this great nation down on its knees, Colonel. We do not need bloodshed. Surrender, and we will allow you and your men safe passage out of the Jefferson Memorial and allow you to take a Vertibird. Make contact with another outpost, do something else. You will die if you continue your stubbornness Colonel," the Wanderer said, though his voice was cold, his purpose wasn't. His teachings from his father, the daily readings with him, taught him the meaning of forgiveness.

"And what would you have me do? Let you destroy everything I have worked on? Let you destroy it all?" the Colonel asked with distress in his tone.

"Just walk away. I forgive you for killing my father. Its not to late to just walk away."

"And you would not just shoot me in the back if I do? How do I know that you won't do it?" he then paused.

"I suppose you just have to trust me not to do it."

"I suppose it doesn't matter now. Very well, I will leave you to your fate," the Colonel said sadly. His men looked at him with surprise.

"Sergeant, contact the rest of the men in the tunnels. Tell them to regroup outside, unarmed. We are leaving," the Colonel said, trying not to break down.

"To where sir?" the Sergeant asked.

"To Chicago. There is nothing left for us here. I will not be caught here when the Brotherhood begin their offensive. They have proven they have the mettle to rebuild this land into a great nation," the Colonel said and the Sergeant nodded, before falling back behind the Colonel. They marched behind the man and exited the Rotunda.

The Wanderer sighed. He looked up at the ceiling and just sighed. Sadness filled his being. His bloodlust went away, his notions for revenge gone. He just wanted to sit down. The battle for his father's work was over. He could rest now.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you let him go. Its amazing that the world had not just beaten out the forgiveness out of you," Sarah Lyons joked, before placing an armored glove on his hand.

"Just better hope that it doesn't bite you in the ass later," she said a moment later. The Wanderer laughed, bitterly and without remorse. He did hope that he never had to see Autumn later. He would not extend his mercy another time.

"Lets get this place locked down," she suggested and the Wanderer agreed. As the two were about to do that, a voice came over the intercom, this voice belonging to a middle aged Asian woman.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? This is Doctor Li! There is something wrong with the purifier! Please, somebody answer!" she yelled frantically over the intercom.

"I have been monitoring the equipment remotely and we have a serious problem. The facility has sustained severe damage during the fighting. Some of it seems intentional, most of it seems like it was from accidents. There's pressure building up in the holding tanks. It needs to be released now, or the whole facility is going to blow!"

"To release the pressure, the purifier needs to activated now. You hear me? NOW! If you don't, all of our work will be for naught!"

"If I'm reading this right, then the control room has lethal amounts of radiation. I'm sorry, I wish there was another way, but it needs to be activated now, otherwise the results will be catastrophic. Again, I am sorry. I wish you the best of luck Carter. I am sorry for everything," and the line went dead. Sarah looked at the Wanderer with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, there goes the celebrations. One of us needs to go in there now and the person that does, will not be coming back. Not exactly how I imagined going out you know? I thought I was going to live until the age of eighty, just like my father," she joked, trying to draw attention from the whole 'activate the purifier now or risk destroying everything your father worked for' thing.

"So what should we do? Draw straws?" she asked the Wanderer.

"I'll do it. I'll start the purifier. It was started by my father. This should be finished by the son. He was Alpha. I am Omega," the Wanderer said cryptically. The Sentinel looked at him with friendly eyes.

"I won't forget what you did here. No one will. Thank you," she said. The door leading to the control room them slid open and he stepped in, hesitation non-existent in his steps. He walked with confidence as the second door slid open. A blaring alarm started, signaling the amount of pressure was building. The Geiger counter of his Pipboy cackled as he entered and he looked back.

Dogmeat with his sad eyes and whimpering.

Fawkes with his wise eyes and his stoic composure.

Sarah with her friendly eyes and her sad smile.

He looked at the activation console. Numbers were there. With his gloved hand, he picked the code.

_I am Alpha and Omega..._

He punched in two, letting the cool metal radiate radiation. He was at peace as he thought of his life in the vault. His first steps when he was one. His birthday party and the ruined cake. Amata, his best friend, his partner in crime. Butch, his bully turned partner in the Wastelands after being kicked out of the vault. His G.O.A.T testing. And his escape.

_The beginning and the end. _

He punched in one. Memories of his first days out in the wastes, stumbling into Megaton.

_I will unto him that is the thirst of the fountain of the waters of life, freely._

And then he punched in six. The purifier had been activated. His father's life work was now a reality. Clean water would now be free for the Capital Wasteland. The Waters of Life had been activated, taking the purifier back had been a tax on his abilities.

He felt the radiation sweep over him. A swirl of green energy started to pick up in the Rotunda, contained by the control room. He started to sway, not hearing the panicked words of Sarah and Fawkes, and the barking of Dogmeat.

He fell to the ground, the cool metal a welcome comfort. He dug deep into his heart, as he locked onto an image of his father. He felt truly at peace, knowing that he was about to die.

But...fate, had other plans for the boy.

**Alright cut. LONGEST CHAPTER I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. Almost six thousand words. This is the prologue. I will be starting the next chapter in the exact same place, but at a different location. Loose novelization, though the basic plot is still the king. Next chapter, maybe later next week. Maybe. Anyway, the next chapter of Vengeance from the Grave will be release tomorrow, and the other fallout stories will be next. Soon. Again, thanks to the large amount of support I have on this site, and a huge shoutout to eaglescorch and CyberJordan, two authors that inspired me to use the creativity that exist in this world. A huge shoutout to Fight Goes On and The Wandering Pair of Vault 101. These are huge inspirations to my Lone Wanderer that I am writing about. You guys are great. Anyways, this Author's Note will end. **

**This is Three Dog and I am your voice in the darkness...or at least the radiation. **


	2. A Trip Down Memory Lane

**Thanks to battleteen for the review and follow. Here is the next chapter. **

The screaming at night was still happening. Star Paladin Cross flexed her fingers, her super sledge, the ARM, safely strapped to her T-51B Power Armor via the magnetic strips on her back. The night was still dark, the bright stars still shining. The howls of animals, both predator and prey, were heard. It was too quiet for her.

It had been an eventful week. First, the birth of Artyom Andreyev. The son of James Andreyev, the newborn was a healthy baby boy. Though only a week old, the baby already had a stoic personality. The son of James did not cry as much as other newborns it seemed. When the baby had been born, he had cried, filling the air with a piercing cry that broke the ears of everyone and brought a smile to James and his wife Catherine. But two minutes later, the crying stopped and everyone had feared that he had stopped breathing. But he had remained quiet. There was only one instance when he had started crying.

Which brought her to the second event of the week.

The death of Catherine Andreyev, the wife of James. She had died only hours after the birth, from Cardiac Arrest. Despite the attempts by the staff of Project Purity, she had died with a smile on her face, holding her newborn son. That was the only time that Artyom had cried that night, shrill cries that brought the project to a screeching halt.

For James had abandoned Project Purity. He had explained to Cross, that he did not want his son being raised in this hellhole. At first, Star Paladin Cross had almost laughed. Everyone born outside in the Wasteland was doomed to live and die in here. She had offered to bring the young Doctor and his son to the Citadel, continue his work there. She had tried to speak sense into the doctor, finally asking him if there was a vault that he could crawl back into.

He had answered a simple yes. It seemed, that the good doctor knew that of a vault untouched by the horrors of the Wasteland. For the doctor himself was from a vault. Vault 21, a vault located over two thousand miles away from the Capital Wasteland.

She had learned a great deal about the Doctor. She had also learned that there was a vault located near the town of Megaton. Vault 101. So she and three other Knights had volunteered to take him and his newborn son to Megaton in order for them to survive the harsh trek north.

In the ruins of an old supermarket, she saw the giant wall that surrounded the town, made of scrap metal and old airplane parts. She and Knight Artemis, a newly promoted one at that, were on guard duty. Armed with a laser rifle and a dry sense of humor, Knight Artemis was a good partner for these nighttime duties.

"Star Paladin, do you think that the Vault will accept James?" the young knight asked. Cross looked at him, her hollow eyes staring back at him.

"I do believe so Knight Artemis. James is a smart man and a charismatic one at that. He should have no problem being able to get into the vault."

The next day, she bid goodbye to the man as he walked straight into the cave that housed the entrance into Vault 101.

* * *

The bright light startled Artyom. The babe stretched, yawning as he waddled, gurgling happily. He saw his papa, his father, the one that took care of him. The Russian Doctor looked back at his newborn son, now a year old. He sighed, looking straight into the piercing blue eyes of his son. He saw all the strength that Catherine had in them and that willed him on to continue his work and his life.

James felt guilty. For the last year, he had been plagued by nightmares, nightmares of his wife dying in labor over and over. He felt nothing but pain, a pain that nothing but his young son could soothe. He looked to the side, seeing the locker that housed his gear from the Wasteland. he shuddered, at the thought of it, the steel helmet, the gas mask, the Kevlar armor, and other things...but he would explain to his son all one day.

He saw his son start to waddle, having gotten up from his spot when his father had walked through the door. His lab coat was pristine and so was his vault suit. His son started to walk slowly, and he clapped his hands in glee.

"Come here son, walk to daddy!" he encouraged and the young baby did just that.

"Look at you, only one year old and already walking like a pro. Come here Artyom. You look so much like your old man! Look at those blue eyes, the black hair...you have your mother's strength," he said sadly, though his son did not catch any of his sadness.

"Dada," the happy infant gurgled happily. There was only two things that made the baby smile and gurgle; his father when he came back from work and when he went to play with his friend Amata. He didn't like Butch though, he was too aggressive for his own good.

What the infant didn't realize that currently he was in his playpen. A prison that kept from moving around freely and kept him contained. He hated the playpen.

"Your mother would be so proud," the doctor said, though this time, a hint of happiness was in his voice. Artyom looked at his father, his world, and smiled.

"Listen kiddo, I know that you hate it when Daddy has to go, but I need you to take care of yourself for a minute," the father then walked out of the playpen, a bewildered look on the infant's face.

"You just stay here while Daddy runs to his office for a minute. You'll be okay pal. Daddy will be back in a bit," and then James closed the gate to the playpen, locking it with a simple pull up lock, and then walked out of the room, letting the pressurized gas squeal with hatred when the door came crashing down, closing.

"Dada?" the infant asked. When no answer came, Artyom resisted the urge to yell. He had observed the way his father had closed the gate. He saw the simple mechanism and with little effort, his nimble hands quickly undid the lock and he was free. He then stomped towards his toys, all arrayed messily besides the toy chest. A framed picture of what his dad called 'words' was on a nightstand, while the crib that he slept in was right next to the steel grey door.

He saw his book, titled YOU'RE SPECIAL! and quickly bounded towards it. He was happy when he saw it. He opened it, gurgling Baba? when he started to look at the colorful pictures in the book. He saw a man dressed in only a speedo, cringing at the sight, with powerful arms and legs, along with a well defined chest. He couldn't read, but the words on the next page were,'S is for strength, and that means I'm strong! I can carry more toys and swing stuff all day long!' These words were repeated to him every night before he went to bed. For some reason, the word Six surfaced into his mind.

He turned the page, seeing the same man with an ear, an eye, a nose, a hand, and a tongue on top of him. He gurgled at the funny sight, before skimming the unknown wording to the right. 'P is for Perception, is a long funny word. It means what I tasted, smelled, saw, and heard!' Again, a word formed in his mind, a number that his father repeated into his brain one night. The number seven.

Turning the page again, he saw the same man, but this time, jumping through a rope. He once saw one of the older children doing that, when he went into the Rec-room with his father. The wording on the right page were, 'E is for Endurance, and that's how long I play! I'm always really healthy and have energy all day!' A word came ringing into his mind. Five.

Turning the page once more, the infant stomached a yawn. This was getting boring without his father. He saw a man looking at him with two hands pointing at him, and winking at him. The words on the right read' C is for Charisma, its why people think I'm great! I make my friends laugh and smile, and never want to hate!' He didn't like the man for some reason and a number came flashing into his mind. Three.

He finally just closed the book, bored as can be. He saw his toys, but he didn't want to play with them. All he wanted was his father. He resisted the urge to cry out, DADA! but he was trembling. As soon as he was about to just give up and go to sleep, the door, the portal, slid up, revealing his father, smiling widely.

"Haha, look like we have quite the little explorer. Serves me right for trying to pen you up! You were looking at You're special again huh? Come here son, let me show you something," he then took his son by the hand, guiding him to the nightstand.

"See that?" the father asked, pointing to the framed picture. The infant said Dada, as if that was confirmation that yes, he did see that.

"That was your mothers favorite quote. Revelations 21:6. Its from the Bible. I am Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely," James said with passion. The infant noticed that his father looked happy.

"She always loved that," and Artyom wondered who this...mother was. His dad always talked of her.

"Alright, come on, lets go see if your little friend Amata wants to go play!" his father said and the infant gurgled again, excited to see his best friend. He followed his father through the steel door, when the light suddenly flashed.

* * *

It was July 13th, 2268. Little Artyom Andreyev, the son of James, was looking for his friend Amata. The halls were emptier than usual, which said something. Usually the halls had at least one or more vault dwellers striding through them. Finally, he decided to check the diner, when he heard his favorite song, _Mighty Mighty Man, _drifting from the jukebox. He strode into the diner, only to find it completely dark.

"Hello?" he asked the darkness, wondering why in God's name the place was dark. He was about to hit the lights when they snapped on, blinding him with the quick flash. He shielded his eyes with his hand, looking straight at the faces of his father, Stanley the mechanic, Amata, his best friend, and Officer Gomez, all clapping.

"Stanley, you turned the lights on too quick, you blinded the poor kid!" Officer Gomez said, his helmet off and still wearing his security uniform.

"Happy Birthday!" they all shouted. Artyom was stunned. He had no idea that his best friend and father had pulled that off. Usually Artyom would have been able to figure it out. Once, when he was seven, his father had tried to hide a surprise party like that, but he had been able to figure it out easily due to Paul, a quiet black kid.

"Can you believe it? He's growing up so fast!" came an old wrinkled voice. He saw Old Lady Palmer, with her white hair and wrinkled skin beaming at him. Old Lady Palmer was pretty much like his grandmother, due to him not knowing his real grandparents or mother.

His father spoke, a proud tone etched in his voice.

"Ten already. You're mother would have been so-" but his father was cut off by an approaching man. As Artyom was about to educate the man who had rudely interrupted his father, he saw who it was.

The Overseer. The man seemed normal, with a head of greying brown hair, a clean shaven face, a quiet contrast to his father, who had a full blown beard and a head of greying black hair. But in reality, Artyom thought he was a dictator, always lording over the vault dwellers. He had often heard his father, the vault doctor, and this man get into arguments, which would usually end with the Overseer storming out of the clinic along with a guard. His face had a fake smile on it and he really, really wanted to punch him.

"Congratulations young man! I don't have to tell you that today is a very special day do I?" the Overseer asked briskly. Artyom cringed, wanting to stop talking to the man.

Down here in Vault 101, when you turn ten, you are ready to take on your first vault responsibilities," the Overseer continued which made Artyom bummed. He was ten, so he didn't like cleaning, but he saw it as an necessary evil. It made sure that the devil his father could be as a cleaner from venturing into his room.

"And as Overseer, I hereby present you with your own very Pipboy-3000! Get used to it," the Overseer said, handing Artyom an cylinder object. It was silver colored and heavy. A screen, a dial, and other objects were crammed onto the object.

"You place it on your wrist and it does all the work!" the Overseer said unhelpfully. Artyom placed the object around his wrist, sliding into the obstruction, and winced when he felt a slight wince as the machine whirled to life. He saw that the object covered his entire forearm, but since this object was to be with him for the rest of his life, he would have to make do with it.

"You'll start your first vault work assignment tomorrow! Hehe," the Overseer said, though a little bit of malice was in his tone. Artyom just ignored it.

"Enjoy your party! You're only ten once. So have fun!" his father encouraged, before heading towards the counter, near the jukebox. The diner was small, with two counters, a jukebox, and two booths for patrons.

"Happy Birthday! We really surprised you, didn't we?" asked Amata. Amata Almodovar was his best friend and the daughter of the Overseer. He could barely believe that such as a happy and carefree girl could be his best friend and the daughter of the Overseer. She had extremely dark brown hair and the prettiest brown eyes. She was like a doe.

"Yeah, you got me!" he said back, though it was said playfully. Amata giggled before punching him in the shoulder.

"Your dad thought you were on to us. But I told him not to worry, it wasn't going to be like last time. It wasn't easy, but we had you fooled!" Amata gloated. Artyom grinned one of his rare grin, showing off his white teeth.

"Guess what I got for you for your birthday!" she demanded and Artyom, deciding once in his life to have fun, shocked her.

"Uhh, a date with Susie Mack?" he asked slyly, taking pleasure in the wonderstruck expression that his best friend had on her face.

"What!? Ew! I didn't even know you were into girls yet!" she said shocked. Artyom didn't make jokes.

"I'm just kidding with you Amata! Just let your Russian friend have some fun!" he said with mock-shock. Amata grinned before shaking her head.

"Nope!" she said, popping the p. "Who's your favorite barbarian? That's right! Grognak! Issue 14 and with no missing pages!" she said gleefully before slipping a smooth comic book straight into his hands. He looked at it, shocked. He had been looking for this forever! He quickly hugged his best friend, who eagerly hugged him back.

"No way! How did you do it?" Artyom asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I found it in a box of my father's old things, believe it or not. Imagine him, reading a comic! Well, I guess everyone was ten at one time in their lives," she said nervously for some reason.

"I also got you another present," she added. The ten year old Artyom looked at Amata, who hesitated, before bringing her lips for a quick ring around kiss on his cheek. Artyom felt his cheeks heat up. He did like Amata, just that he was ten and he didn't know how to romance a girl. Besides, his father would guide him in that.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Well, go out and mingle! I'm not the only party guest!" she said, regaining her bubbly composure just seconds later. She bounded away, talking to Officer Gomez about something else.

He saw Paul Hannon, one of the members of Butch's little gang. He hated Butch, who tried to make his life hell. Only once had they fought, and that was when Butch had trapped him with his two buddies, Wally Mack, a punk kid whose father was a security officer, and Paul. He and Butch were both sentenced to three days of home arrest, or detention.

"Man I wish I was ten," Paul said before heading to where Butch and Wally were sitting.

"Excuse me young man, I would like to speak with you for a minute," and Artyom dreaded to see that it was the Overseer. He quickly put a fake smile on and headed to where he was, sitting across from Old Lady Palmer.

"It seems that my daughter is quite taken with you, seeing that little episode. I hope you appreciate all the work she put into this party," he said sternly. Artyom gulped. He was ten and a girl liked him and he was already being grilled like he was some war criminal.

"I do Mr. Overseer. Your daughter is an awesome girl and I value our friendship very much," Artyom said slowly, as if he was going to die if he said something wrong.

"Good. I have to go now. You have fun and remember, I am the Overseer. You hurt my daughter and I will make sure that you spend a night in the vault jail," the Overseer warned and Artyom gulped. God must hate him if he was already being threatened.

"Are you having a nice party? Wow, ten years old, my, my, my. It only seems like yesterday that your father..." Old Lady Palmer said before stopping.

"Goodness! Listen to me ramble. You're waiting for your present aren't you!" she asked, her voice raised. Artyom just grinned and soon Old Lady Palmer handed him something warm and soft.

"You are such a nice and polite young man. But don't ever lose your ability to speak your mind directly. We could use more of that down here. Here you go, a nice sweetroll that I baked for you just this morning. It's all for you- you don't have to share with anyone!" she said gleefully. Artyom grinned again. He loved Old Lady Palmer's sweetrolls, warm bread with sweetness in the morning. He quickly bit into it and ate it all, before thanking Old Lady Palmer. He made his way towards his dad, but was going to talk to Stanley, the old mechanic.

"Happy Birthday sport. How do you like your PipBoy-3000 and everything, you find it fitting and everything?" he asked nicely and Artyom grinned. The PipBoy-3000 he had was a series D, one of the few that had been delivered to Vault 101 before the bombs fell.

"It's an awesome tool. Though this does intrigue me. Why is it a Series D, instead of a Series C, like what the rest of the vault has?" he asked curiously.

"Well, i'm glad you liked it. The reason that you have a Series D was because I wanted you have to a good PipBoy-3000. It's a bit different, but it's a lot more reliable and hardier."

"Thanks Stanley. You are the best," Artyom praised and Stanley smiled.

"Don't mention it. Oh, before I forget, here's a baseball cap!" and he handed Artyom a red base ball cap, fitted for his head.

Next to Stanley was Andy, the Mr. Handy robot that was the aide to most of the vault specialists. A birthday cake with his name on it in strawberry icing and ten candles were in front of the robot.

"Time to cut the cake!" the robot announced. Artyom then heard the whine of a chainsaw. He turned around, only to see the cake become ruined. The chainsaw cut straight through the cake like it was nothing and splattered it all on the counter.

"Oh dear, it seems that I have ruined the cake," and Artyom grimaced. In the corner of his eye, he saw Butch stand up and march towards him. That only meant one thing.

Trouble.

Artyom and Butch were about the same height, but Artyom was in much better shape, due to him hanging out with Officer Gomez all the time when his father was conducting medical procedures. The Officer was off-duty most of the time when Amata and his father were off doing something, so he was able to make a quick friendship with the Officer.

"I'm hungry and that stupid robot destroyed the cake. Give me the sweetroll that Old Lady Palmer gave you!" he said threatened. He then raised a fist.

"No Butch. I already ate it," and Butch cried out in anguish. Butch soon started to plummet that fist towards him. But Artyom was ready. You see, hanging out with Officer Gomez did not just meant that he worked out sometimes. It also meant self-defense.

Raising his forearm, he absorbed the kinetic energy with his arm, blocking the fist from doing damage to his face. The surprised face on Butch was just icing on the cake when Artyom aimed his fist straight at Butch's stomach, like Officer Gomez had shown him. He then channeled his strength into one dazzling punch that made Butch spin like a ballerina.

"Hey! You two, stop fighting!" Officer Gomez came charging at them, when he broke up the two fighting boys.

"What happened?" he asked and Artyom answered first before Butch could try and lie.

"Butch attacked me because he's hungry. He wanted my sweetroll, but I already ate it," Artyom said hurriedly, before Butch could protest.

"Is that true Butch?" Officer Gomez asked. Butch looked at the officer with swollen eyes, trying not to cry.

"Yes Officer Gomez," he said sulking.

"You two go have fun. Its a party not a bar," and the two boys quickly separated before Amata came stomping up to Artyom.

"I can't believe Butch would do that. What an ass," Amata swore before she giggled.

"See what I did there? Oh look, your dad is waving at us. I'll let you and him catch up," and then Amata left, talking to Andy. He walked towards his dad, a little sullen at having to fight Butch.

"Hey,that was Jonas on the intercom. He and I have cooked up a little surprise for you. Jonas is waiting for you in the Reactor level. Go ahead, I'm sure no one is going to mind you slipping out for a few minutes," and Artyom was giddy. A surprise present from his father! He wanted to see it, so he rushed out the door, hearing his father chuckle. He sprinted down the hall, only to bump in Beatrice Armstrong, Stanley's daughter. She was pretty, with curly brown hair and green eyes, and was a poet.

"Happy birthday dearie! My goodness, already ten! I hope I didn't miss the party!" Beatrice exclaimed. Artyom didn't like Beatrice that much, he didn't like the way she stared at his dad sometimes. Artyom looked at her with suspicious eyes when she said that.

"And look at you, a big boy with his own PipBoy! What a special occasion. And I wrote a poem, just for you! Here, let me upload it to your PipBoy!" and before Artyom could protest, she grabbed his wrist and inserted a holodisk straight into it, letting the machine whirl as it absorbed the information, before taking it out. Artyom looked at it as words started to form on the machine.

"Thanks, Beatrice. Is that all?" Artyom asked. Usually, well, he didn't want two presents from someone, but considering that Beatrice was a terribly gloom poet, he didn't want to feel down for the rest of the day.

"Of course not! Everyone gets one poem. Now you run along now!" she said cheekily before heading back into the atrium.

Artyom looked straight at his PipBoy, reading the poem.

_Gray Walls, impenetrable steel. Suffocation! Condemnation! Little hands groping in subterranean uncertainty. Mommy? Daddy? Am I Dead?_

_Nay! Nay! Reborn into purifying fluorescence!_

_A face emerges, strong and male._

_Father to me? Father to all!_

_Overseeing our lives, our eternities. _

_Harshness of discipline._

_ Harshness of love_

_Obedience my savior!_

_Larva to pupa, pupa to worker. Buzz, buzz! One with the steel honeycomb. 10 lies within the 101, significant at last. Till gray seeps from the walls to hair, to soul. Then, eternal slumber, the sweet sleep of incineration._

Wow. That was depressing. Obedience. Order. No freedom. That was what the vault was all about. You were born in the vault, you worked in the vault, then you died in the sweet sleep of incineration.

Artyom, determined to get the terrible feelings of sadness out of his system, sulked down the stairs towards the Reactor Room, where his father sometimes conducted experiments and where Stanley worked. He saw a dark skinned man with a shaved head and glasses, wearing a lab coat over his vault suit. It was his father's assistant, Jonas. A good man, and one of Artyom's friends. Artyom had trouble making friends with kids his own age, but then again, his father was the vault doctor, his best friend the Overseer's daughter.

"What are you doing here young man? I thought kids weren't allowed in the Reactor level," Jonas said, folding his arms. Artyom looked at him with a glare. He knew that Jonas was a joker of a sorts, which meant that he wasn't really liked by the Overseer that much.

"Dad said that I was supposed to come down here for a surprise. Fooled me once? Shame on you. Fooled me twice? Shame on you!" he said, pointing a mock accusing finger at Jonas. The lab assistant stifled a laugh as the ten year old then cracked a grin.

"Haha, look at you. Ten years old and you have a PipBoy and everything," Jonas cracked and Artyom laughed, a rough gale that was full of scorn.

"If you can wait just one minute, I think your dad will be here," and then Jonas put his hands in his lab coat pockets. Artyom heard footsteps behind him, and there was his dad, with something behind his back.

"Are you ready for your surprise?" he asked and Artyom shook his head eagerly.

"The Overseer gave you a PipBoy, and you're old enough to do work, so I'd figure that you are old enough to have this as well," and then he swiveled his hands around, an old BB gun in his hands. It was beautiful. Colored a dark brown, the BB gun was something that no child was allowed to have. Well in fact, no one besides the guards were allowed to have guns at all. He looked at with fascination and awe. This was something of power to the ten year old, something that hurt someone.

"Your own BB gun! Its a little old, but it should work perfectly. Jonas found it here," pointing to the lab assistant," and it took us a good three months to get the old thing working again. It was in pretty rough state when he found it."

"Thanks dad, I really like it!" Artyom spoke with a glee that James had not seen in his tone since...well he had never seen it.

"You know how tough it was to find a spring that small? Good thing Butch 'misplaced' that switchblade of his. Hehe," and Artyom resisted the urge to laugh as well. Butch had cried for days when his beloved 'Toothpick' went missing, considering that he was trying to show off to Susie Mack that he had the knife.

"So, what do you think? Want to give it a try?" his old man asked and Artyom looked at him with surprise.

"But we can't shoot guns in the vault..." the ten year old protested half-heartedly.

"You sure can't, unless you want the Overseer beating down your door! Jonas and I found a place. C'mon!" and a door slid open. It was one of two doors on the Reactor level, one of them housing the reactors and the water chip for the vault, and the other where it was just full of discarded storage containers. No one came down there at all.

At the far end of the room, three makeshift targets had been made, all of them made of scrap metal. His eyes shimmered at the sight. His dad must of worked pretty hard to make all of this happen.

"Well, what do you think? You can come down here and shoot anytime you liked, provided you do your homework," James jested and Artyom cracked a smile.

"This was the best birthday ever! Thanks Dad!" he said happily. He looked at the targets. He aimed his gun, looking through the iron sights. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, slowing time down as he pulled the trigger. The pellets that he fired at the targets all hit dead center, and his dad looked at him surprised.

"Looks like we have a natural marksman!" and then he heard a clicking sound, a sound that he did not like. He saw a cat-size insect, colored brown as the color of his stool. Six legs and with a pair of wings, this insect was a product of the radiation outside. A-

"Radroach! Son, take it down," his father ordered and Artyom gladly followed it. He aimed down the sights before releasing a torrent of BB pellets, flicking the lever like it his life depended on it. Soon, the Radroach fell with ease, a blank look in its black eyes.

"Good, that's one less Radroach to deal with!" his father praised.

"Hey Jonas, take a picture with me and the big game hunter!" his father asked excitingly, before grasping Artyom's shoulder. Artyom continued to hold his rifle as the flash from the camera engulfed him.

* * *

The day was October 21st, 2274. It was a nice day, well, the vault always had the same weather, and Artyom was going through his daily checkup with his dad. The young lad with black hair and blue eyes, with olive skin, had grown up. He was about the same height as his dad, standing at 5'8, and was growing more and more handsome. His black hair was cut short, into a buzz cut, and the son of James was groaning inwardly.

Artyom was a smart kid. He lead his class in subjects such as medicine, history, science, and math, while he was on par with the rest of his peers in things such as English and Art. He was a quieter kid than most and still had not made a lot of friends, but Amata was still his best friend. Something he intended change soon.

What was scaring the hell out of Artyom today was that everybody in his class was taking the G.O.A.T. Otherwise known as the test that could make or break him. He wanted a job that he would enjoy. Being a garbage burner was something that he did not want to be.

So when he pretended to be sick, his dad picked up on it immediately, because well, he was a doctor and all.

"As a far as I can tell, you are a perfectly healthy sixteen year old boy. So yes, you have to go to class to take your G. exam!" his father said sternly. Artyom groaned, but he knew that this plan would not have worked.

"Go on now, you have a G.O.A.T to take," his father said, trying to shoo him along. \

"I really don't want to take this test dad," Artyom informed his dad for what was probably the seventeenth time today. His dad smiled inwardly, his son always spoke his mind more often, and he was becoming like a mixture of Catherine and him.

"You're sixteen son. This year you have to take that test. Now, look, its not so bad. Everyone had to take it, including me! And look where I ended up. Working as the vault doctor. Now son, its not hard. All there is ten questions that you have to answer and you'll be fine."

"is there anything else I need to know about the G.O.A.T?" Artyom asked wanting to prolong his departure.

"The Generalized Occuaption Aptitude Test. G.O.A.T. Everyone had to take it when they were sixteen. It helps determine what kind of job you'll have here when you get a bit older. So pay attention and don't fall asleep," his father warned him.

"You know what the Overseer says," We're born in the vault, we live in the vault, we die in the vault. That-

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait. Why the hell are you telling all of that boring vault stuff?" asked a gruff voice. A harsh chuckle was the reply.

"You wanted to hear the story, did you not?" asked the other voice, the one that had chuckled.

"Yes I did. But I want to know, when the action begins. Three-Dog always said that the Lone Wanderer came out guns blazing into the wasteland. Can you skip to that part?" the gruff voice asked eagerly.

"No. But what I will do, is skip to the part where the Wanderer first kicked the ass of several opponents at once. Believe me, I was there," the voice said, before pausing. "Though after I get through the ass kicking, the G.O.A.T, then I will begin the escape portion."

"Thank God. I swear, I have to hear another of, the G.O.A.T or a freaking ten year old birthday party, I'm going to shit myself."

* * *

Artyom had finished his talk with his father, filling his need to know more about his mother. The sixteen year old really wanted to either become the next doctor or become an engineer. He worked really well with patients, often accompanying his father during daily appointments and check-ups, learning more and more about the medical field, though he spent half the time with Old Man Jenkins, who tinkered with old Pre-War gizmos and robots, taking care of Andy.

Passing by Stanley, who was again in the clinic because of a cough he had, and Jonas, who issued him a friendly hello, when he saw a scene that made his blood boil.

With slicked black hair, leather brown jackets that had the words TUNNEL SNAKES and a picture of a snake, Butch DeLoria was the ultimate hell raiser. Leaning against the wall, he had his hand coming very close to a certain female...

Amata. His best friend. She had grown, with her dark brown hair becoming longer and now tied into a ponytail, and she had her arms folded. The two other members of the Tunnel Snakes where blocking off her exit points, in order to make sure that the Overseer's daughter wasn't going to try and escape.

"Come on Amata, I can show you a real good time...a Tunnel Snake kind of time," Butch DeLoria snickered when Amata tried to move away from him, only to bump into Wally Mack, a wicked grin on his face.

"You know this is gonna happen. What do you say, Me and you, my place, tonight?" he asked cockily. Artyom quickly walked towards them, a mean scowl on his face.

"Butch. Did your mother ever teach it was not nice to pick on little girls?" Artyom asked coyly. Amata looked at him with glad eyes, though they held a flicker of annoyance because he called her a little girl.

"What do you want punk? We just trying to have some fun with the lady friend over here, so unless you wanna get beat, you'll scoot your ass into the classroom!" Butch warned , and to back it up, the other two Tunnel Snakes started to beat their fists together.

"How about instead of your gang trying to fight me three to one, just me and you Butch," Artyom offered. Butch cracked a sly grin, and he motioned for his Snakes to keep back, but keep an eye on the lady. He cracked his knuckles.

"This is the worst mistake you ever made!" Butch warned, before lashing out with a jab to start things off. He had hoped that the Russian teenager wouldn't be able to block it. What Butch of course did not know, was that Artyom was the junior league boxing champion, beating even some of the security officers in the boxing tournament.

So imagine his surprise when Artyom sidestepped his jab, only to release a barrage of punches to his midsection, punishing his internal organs for their owner's stupidity. Hot waves of pain was inflicted on Butch as Artyom cracked him upside the face with a powerful uppercut, and without breaking a stride, struck Butch in the nose with a bone crushing one two combo that made his head spin.

Butch wasn't going down the drain without hopefully doing some damage to the Russian, so he manage to push Artyom away, despite severe bruising starting to show up in his midsection and his nose, and quickly scrambled to get something in his jacket pocket. Artyom circled around him, like a wolf circling a campfire, waiting for the light to die. only instead of his lunging, Butch lunged at him, a sharp pocketknife lacerating him in the arm, and cutting a three inch long gash on his upper arm. Blood started to drip down, and Butch lashed with a stab straight into the stomach.

Artyom didn't panic, instead showing his usual stoic and calm demeanor, and while the pocketknife, christened _Butch's Toothpick_, continued to flicker like a snake, Artyom leaped back, striking Butch straight in the face, and bringing him down with a crushing right hook that sent Butch flying a few feet.

Wally Mack, without a word of warning, struck Artyom in the back, bringing him down, and started to wail on his stomach with powerful kicks, but soon Artyom wrapped his arms around the leg that was doing the kicking and pulled, bringing Wally down. He then lashed out with a strong kick to Wally's stomach that brought the air out of the Wally's lungs. Breathing hard, Artyom glanced at Paul, the only remaining member of the Tunnel Snakes, who wisely decided to flee into the classroom. Amata looked at him with caring eyes, helping him up .

"That was incredibly stupid of you Mr. Andreyev," Amata started and Artyom groaned, not wanting to hear another one of Amata's lectures.

But instead of a lecture, he felt a pair of soft lips on his cheek, a ghost of a kiss when the warmth on his face flared like a sun.

"But thank you," she whispered before looking at the groaning dumbasses on the ground. She walked into the classroom, followed by a bruised and cut Artyom. A darks skinned man holding a clipboard was in the middle of the classroom, marking attendance.

"Ah, Miss Almodovar and Mr. Andreyev, nice of you to finally stop on by," the man said without even looking up from his clipboard." Is Mr. Mack and Mr. DeLoria behind you fine students?"

"No."

"Well then. Miss Almodovar, you may take a seat. Mr. Andreyev, please follow me to my desk," the man ordered and the two teens exchanged glances before the Russian teen made his way towards the desk. The placard on the ordinary desk read Mr. Brotch, who was the teacher in charge of teaching all High school age students.

"Mr. Andreyev, you do know that walking into this class cut and bruised is not a good way to start," Mr. Brotch started." And especially when I have a student coming into this classroom scared. Now, we are about to take-"

"Mr. Brotch, do I have to take that stupid test? All it is a load of bullshit that the Overseer will use against us for the next fifty years of my life. I want be able to choose my job based on what I am good at, not because some stupid test that is ten questions long chose it for me," Artyom interjected, not wanting to take the test. Mr. Brotch sighed, before looking at Artyom deep in his eyes.

"You always had a habit of speaking your mind Artyom and in this case, you are right. One screw up in this test and you could be burning garbage for the next century. I will tell you this. I can fill out the form on what job you want to do and I will make sure that you get the job," Mr. Brotch offered. Artyom could hardly believe it. He could skip all that red tape bullshit, and do something worthwhile with his time.

"In that case, you already know what I want to be." Mr. Brotch raised a curious eyebrow.

"And what is that?"

"Vault Security."

* * *

"So the Lone Wanderer skipped the entire test? Man, I wish I was able to do that when I graduated from New Reno. But no, my mom wanted me to get a proper education. What the hell I am going to do with an education in the Capital Fucking Wasteland. So, he became a vault security officer?" the man asked. The other man nodded.

"Yeah. Anyway, three years passed before the day that he started his journey into this hellhole that I call now call home."

"How did it start?"

"It started when his father opened the door and left. Just left without telling his son. But he did leave one gift behind." the man answered. The other man, learning all he could about this wanderer, leaned in, wanting to know more.

"What did he leave?" he asked curiously.

"His gear."

**And that is Chapter Two! Longest chapter I have ever written! Just a trip down memory Lane. Now, please read and tell me what you think about it!**


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